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Sundance is interested in food, me and getting into trouble. When I’m on my computer for too long he sits on the keyboard. When I’m trying to get dressed to go out he swats at me incessantly. If I ignore all his efforts to get my attention he misbehaves. Television bores him to tears and if I put it on, he either barrels out of the room or goes to sleep.

Animals are so uncomplicated. They don’t ask for much. They need fresh food and water every day. They have to be walked. Their litter boxes have to be clean (or God help you.) And it goes without saying they need their annual physicals and shots.

But that’s just about it when it comes to maintenance.

All they really ask is that you love them. And they love you right back. Their love is simple Continue reading →

I enjoy my sleep, always have. And truthfully, I’m one of those people who really prefers a gentle wake up call in the morning. Alas, I’m a heavy sleeper, so I do set an alarm — the louder and more shrill the better.

Not for my psyche, or my nerves, but to ensure I hear it and, more importantly, can’t ignore it. And I probably have some masochistic tendencies. However …

As the mother of two four-legged babies, I am usually up before the alarm goes off, because at least one of my fabulous felines gets to me first.

And let me assure you, there is nothing as sweet as being awakened by a cold, wet nose pressed against your own Continue reading →

Bartlett, one of my cats, is pissed off with me. Majorly so; and he’s giving me the cold shoulder. I catch him giving me dirty looks sometimes, too. Trust me, he’s very good at letting me know where I stand. Which at this moment in time is very low on his top-ten list of favourites.

I didn’t do anything per se, I swear.

Thing is, when I worked full time he was used to not having me around all the time. But in the six or so years I’ve been freelancing he’s become accustomed to me being home a lot more.

If I was going to be really honest with you, which apparently I am, I’d admit there are some days I don’t go out at all. There are some days I’m so busy writing I don’t ever get out of my Continue reading →

Have you ever wondered why it is you like some people and can’t stand others? And vice versa, I’m sure. I’m not talking about people you know pretty well and develop an aversion to at some point, for some reason. The answer to that is obvious. I’m talking about people you barely know, or even those you’ve never met– and still, they rub you the wrong way.

You know, dislike on first sight. Or even without sight. Just plain dislike.

Do they send off some sort of scent that’s off-putting? Or pheromones? Really bad vibes? Do they have an aura about them?

Logically it makes no sense. How can you not like someone you don’t know? And yet
it happens, at least to me.

Take Margaret Wente, for example. She’s an OpEd columnist for the Toronto Globe Continue reading →

Here it is, almost Christmas and she’s pissed at me. I thought this was the season to be jolly! You know, HO! HO! HO! Fa la la la la and all that jazz!

Harumph! All she is, is grumpy! No Christmas spirit what so ever!

S-C-R-O-O-G-E.

She knows I need a lot of attention. All that bull about cats being uppity and independent is just that: BULL!! This isn’t her first rodeo. She’s had plenty of cats. She knows the score. She KNOWS what we’re like.

So I want to be petted. So I want to be hugged. So I want to cuddle. So I want her to Continue reading →

If you’ve got any four-legged family members living at your house you know very well I’m not talking about me keeping my animals on a tight rein. Absolutely not. Au contraire. In fact it is my two furry little beasts who have me on the leash. And a short one at that. Over a barrel. At their mercy. At their beck and call.

Yes. These two. Bartlett, on the left. Dark grey with the interesting white markings. And Sundance. Ginger and the more svelte of the two. I’m being kind. Bartlett is the size of an adult racoon. He weighs in at more than thirty pounds. Probably much more, but I can’t pick him up to put him on the scale. He’s way too heavy. And much as he loves to cuddle, he does not — I repeat NOT — like being picked up. By anyone. Even me.

I know, they look like butter would melt in their mouths. In all fairness, sometimes it would. “Some” being

It took me a while to become fully conscious. I’d been in a really deep sleep. You know, what I mean, don’t you? When you wake up confused. Not sure where you are. Or what time it is. Or what day it is.

When you’ve probably been snoring. Really sawing wood.

Or when you wake up drooling.

I could feel myself climbing out of my stupor. Becoming aware of my surroundings. But it was very gradual. Like slow motion.

Something was tickling my face. It was feather-light. Couldn’t figure out what it was. Because I was really still asleep. At first I just tried to brush whatever it was away. But it kept coming back. First on one cheek. Then the other. Then an eyelid. Then my nose. My forehead. My chin. It felt like a bunch of teensy tiny flies flitting

As you have, no doubt, gathered I’ve begun to check out the WordPress Daily Prompts. They’re interesting and often inspire me. Yesterday’s had my imagination running wild. “Unconventional Love“. It went on to say, “Over the weekend we explored different ways to love. Today, tell us about the most unconventional love in your life.”

There’s no end to the possibilities. The mind boggles.

The most unconventional love in my life?? Hmmmm … . After thinking about it for a while I’ve come to the conclusion there’s never been anything about my love life one would consider unconventional. How boring. I’m almost embarrassed to admit it.

I’ve had a couple of long distance romances. But that hardly qualifies as unconventional. At least to me. It’s not exactly the norm, but lots of people have them. Do you think they’re unconventional? Unconventional love. I was stumped. Still am.

James Joyce, Gay Talese and T.S. Elliot were inspired by cats. While Rupert Pole, one of Anais Nin’s husbands, was inseparable from his beloved spaniel, Tavi. He was so devoted to the dog, he (the dog) was the subject of many letters between them. He (the husband), and the dog, lived on the west coast, while she was in New York. Actually she was a very naughty girl. She had two husbands at the same time. Pole was one, Hugh Parker Guiler, the other.

Dickens had a raven named Grip, who sometimes showed up in the writer’s fiction. Unfortunately he (the bird) swallowed a paint chip and died soon thereafter.

There must be something to it, because I write about my cats often. And God knows, I’m devoted to them. I’ve been called “crazy” more than a few times, I should tell you. But reading “Literary Pets: The Cats, Dogs, and Continue reading →